The Accident

My story begins in 1962, when I was 18 months old and my family and I were in a car accident. From what I have been told, my dad was driving on the road that led to our house when a septic tank truck coming from the opposite direction (driven by a 15 year old boy who had been drinking and was driving because his grandfather was too drunk to drive) approached a curve too fast, careened out of its lane, and hit us head-on. Our car, containing my father, mother, my two older brothers and myself—I was in my mom’s lap, since they didn't have car seats back then—flew back 100 feet under the force of the truck. The young boy driving died on impact, his grandpa survived, and my father was crushed on the steering wheel and died later while they were trying to get him out. My mother and brothers escaped with relatively minor injuries.